


12. Milk

by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG



Series: Twinkstober 2020 [12]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Crying, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Overstimulation, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Milking, now with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG
Summary: Twinkstober 2020Prompt: milkJaskier doesn't use his safe word.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Twinkstober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923553
Comments: 30
Kudos: 696





	1. Chapter 1

"Geralt, please, _please_ no more, I _can't_ , please, have mercy!"

Jaskier isn't sobbing, not anymore. He's too exhausted for that. Instead there are silent tears leaking from his eyes, steadily for the last five minutes. His arms are numb where they're tied to the headboard above his head.

Geralt coos at him, runs a calming hand down his inner thigh. "Just one more, songbird," he says, "one more and we're done. Think you can do that?"

No, he _really doesn't_ think he can. He's a mess, sweaty and tear-stained, his stomach and chest absolutely covered in his come, the sheet beneath him soaked. His last two orgasms were almost dry, bordering on painful, and he's starting to feel sore, despite the copious amounts of oil easing the way for Geralt's thick fingers.

" _Geralt_ ," he whines instead of answering, his hips trying to shift away from the Witcher, and again Geralt hums and presses a kiss to the inside of his knee.

"One more, Jask, for me." And then his fingers start moving again, slow and steady, drawing circles over that spot inside of him, and Jaskier arches off the bed with a wail.

They've been at this for what feels like hours. It always starts out being fun, but Geralt is insatiable, always pushing Jaskier further than he thinks he can go. Today is no exception.

Geralt's speed doesn't change, he just keeps rubbing at Jaskier's prostate, round and round, and with a whimper, Jaskier realises he's about to come again. He laughs hysterically, tears sliding down his face, and Geralt smiles, all teeth.

"Go on, lark," and light explodes before Jaskier's eyes.

He floats, head empty of anything but his bone-deep exhaustion. His hole clenches around Geralt's finger, and he breathes a stuttering sigh.

Then Geralt kneels and pulls his fingers free, moves between his thighs, and a moment later Jaskier feels the blunt head of his cock press against him.

He twitches, twists, tries to kick at Geralt, tries to get away. " _No, no, no_ , Geralt, _please, no_ , I can't, I _really can't,_ I-"

Geralt holds his hips still and pushes into him, and Jaskier _screams_.

It's too much. No, fuck that, they left "too much" behind _at least_ a quarter of an hour ago. This is... whatever the superlative of "too much" is. Geralt just holds him there, unmoving as a mountain, and Jaskier wants to crawl out of his skin.

"You said one more," he gasps, sobs, arms pulling on the rope around his wrists, "just one."

Geralt strokes his thumb along the jut of his hip. Jaskier can feel how he shakes, holding back. "One for you," he says through gritted teeth, and Jaskier closes his eyes.

The first thrust is torture. Pulling back feels like Geralt is fucking him dry, which Jaskier knows isn't the case. The squelching of the oil is too loud for that. When Geralt pushes in again, with more force now, Jaskier whimpers, his fingernails digging into the meat of his palms.

Geralt seems about as desperate as Jaskier feels, if for an entirely different reason. Jaskier just wants it to end. He feels wrung out, oversensitive and used, and Geralt is now fucking him properly, his cock dragging over Jaskier's poor abused prostate with every other thrust, and all Jaskier can do is lie there and _take it._

It doesn't take long for the pain to recede, and he finds himself in an odd spot where he's feeling... _something_ , that is neither pain nor pleasure, just a constant ache that seems to want to lead him somewhere.

"Jaskier," Geralt growls, his hips snapping relentlessly, and Jaskier watches uncomprehendingly as the Witcher lets go of his hip and reaches between his legs. It takes his tired brain a moment to register what is happening, and he tries to twist away when it does.

"No, please, it _hurts_ , Geralt, no, no, _no, don't-_ "

Geralt doesn't listen. He takes hold of Jaskier's cock and strokes, and Jaskier arches in his grip, pushing himself further onto his cock in the process, and howls. The sensation is absolutely overwhelming and once he stops screaming, he can't get air into his lungs again. He's gasping helplessly with every thrust, and then he feels the telltale coiling in his gut. It should be impossible, he can't have anything left to give, but Geralt is nothing if not determined.

"Come on, I know you can do it," he says from between gritted teeth, and Jaskier sobs.

"Please don't make me, _please_ ," but Geralt starts actually aiming for his prostate, and Jaskier feels all of his muscles lock up, and then, with another merciless stroke of Geralt's hand, Jaskier shatters into a million pieces.

* * *

When Jaskier regains consciousness, he finds himself on his stomach, on the other bed. The clean one. His arms are barely tingly at all, meaning he's been here a while, his face has been cleaned of the tears and snot, and there's a warm, damp cloth spread over his arse.

Geralt is next to him, not touching him, just keeping watch. Jaskier smiles weakly. "Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like someone just tore open my arse and made me come my brains out."

Geralt, the bastard, chuckles. "Sounds about right." He leans back and then his hand comes back with a waterskin. "Here," he says and holds it for him as Jaskier gulps down at least half of its contents. When he's done, Geralt puts the skin back again before he turns to Jaskier and runs careful fingers through his hair. "You were so good for me," he rumbles, and Jaskier snorts.

"I was screaming bloody murder and literally _begged_ you to stop. I wouldn't be surprised if someone called the constabulary on you."

Geralt hums. "But you didn't use your word."

"No," Jaskier says softly, "I didn't." He snuggles closer, and Geralt lays his arm across his back. After a while, Jaskier says, "But I'm not letting you anywhere near my lovely arse _ever_ again."

The Witcher chuckles and strokes a warm hand over Jaskier's back. "You say that every time."

"Ugh. I hate you."

"And yet," Geralt says and presses a kiss to Jaskier's forehead, "here we are."


	2. Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned [Bones](https://twitter.com/bones_for_sale?s=09) over on Twitter to draw these two dumbdumbs and these are the results! I love. ❤
> 
> Go check out Bones' work, it's playful and sexy and cute and I'm gonna stop now.


End file.
